


The stars we were born under or Shameless Birthday Fic

by Moonshine_Givens



Category: Actor RPF, Justified, Justified RPF
Genre: M/M, birthday fic, kind of pre-slash, lots of zodiac talk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-10
Updated: 2013-11-10
Packaged: 2018-01-01 03:06:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1039605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moonshine_Givens/pseuds/Moonshine_Givens
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Today is Walton Goggins birthday!</p>
            </blockquote>





	The stars we were born under or Shameless Birthday Fic

**Author's Note:**

  * For [gearseffect](https://archiveofourown.org/users/gearseffect/gifts).



> So, I'm sitting down at home, ready to quietly read a good book or something, when gears send me this question: "Hey it's Walton's birthday today, you should totally work on a fic either a fic with Boyd in it or else a dirty fic with Walt in it. I know I'm a horrible influence."  
> This is not dirty. This is just... hm... foreplay? But it's a birthday fic!  
> HAPPY BIRTHDAY WALT! thank you for being such an amazing actor.

“You know what, Walt, I don’t think I’ve ever heard this many bullshit in my whole life.”

He’s being an asshole, he knows it, and he also knows he should tune it down a bit, given it was the dude’s birthday. But they had been drinking since noon – no, wait, the first celebratory shot was as soon as they got in the set –, it was the end of the day and Walton was too full of shit, so Timothy could only hold in so much of his annoyance.

“And you know _what_ , Tim, me thinks lady doth protests too fucking much. What is it that bothers you so much about this subject?”

Timothy rolls his eyes and turns to the other side of the table, even though Walt’s every move is still quite clear in the corner of his eyes. The man is laughing, so Timothy, a firm believer that the best answer to stupid ass questions is a dignified silence, just brings the beer glass to his lips, in a superior manner he knows both fascinates and infuriates Walt (and half the women in the world).

“No, Olyphant, seriously! I wanna hear what is it about zodiac signs that brings so much hate into your little heart.”

“Dude, c’mon, you know the interns write the horoscope in the newspaper, right?”

People are laughing around the table, some of them are turning around as if getting ready to watch a good circus show, and there’s no doubt who are the main clowns here. Joelle is whispering something into Natalie’s ear, and shouldn’t Natalie be bothering Kevin Bacon now or something?

“Tim, I’m not talking about the goddamn daily horoscope here, man, I’m talking about your sign, how the cosmos can influence your fucking personality, the way you exist. Or you think the universe has no say in the glorious existence of one Timothy Olyphant?”

“I’m sorry I don’t buy into all this new age crap, your shit must be stronger stuff than mine.”

“Oh, yeah, sure. That would be your reaction.”

The way the word “your” came out of Walt’s mouth singing and his sinister smile gave Tim the clear idea the man thought he had something on him. The best reaction would be to totally ignore him, give him no opportunity to say whatever the hell his weird mind had come up with now. Yeah.

“Okay, Goggins, what the hell is that supposed to mean?”

Jacob Pitts was laughing. _Jacob Pitts_ was laughing at him. Tim was never going to pass the fucker any extra lines, that’s for sure.

“Oh, nothing special… it’s just, you know, that would be the ideal Taurus answer. That is, if you believed in any of this, as I’m _sure you don’t_ , being the perfect pragmatic, rational, down to earth Tau… hm… individual.”

Perfect. Now he either believes in horoscope or he proves this horoscope shit is right. Walton must be taking a page or two of Boyd Crowder’s book.

“Oh, yeah?” maybe if he keeps the air of disinterest, he can convince everyone he wasn’t outsmarted. “So, I’m a perfect Taurus, you say?”

“Now, Tim, I didn’t use the word perfect. That is just your narcissistic inner Taurus. Or maybe it’s your competitive side, working to be the best at just about everything, as any other bull born under your stars.”

“Competitive, I’m not competitive, what do you mean competitive? Where is this coming from?”

The whole table was rolling their eyes. Erica muffled a giggle. Wasn’t anyone remembering he was producer in the damn show?

“You, competitive? Noooo, I mean… I must really be confusing you with my other co-star.”

“I’m not your co-star, asshole, I’m the fucking protagonist!” and even Tim had to laugh at that, besides himself, because he could see perfectly he was working to prove Walt’s point. “Okay, okay, so is that whole sign bullshit’s only good to prove me as a shitty human being?”

Jacob was yelling “Even though you really are a shitty human being.” from the other side of the table, but Walt was answering:

“No, no, that is not the point, even though every Taurus should focus in self-discovery.” Tim really couldn’t help but snort. “But your sign can tell us about so many of your better qualities, Timothy. Like, you’re a very creative person,” Walton kept counting his fingers “you’re a very loyal man, you don’t let small things get in your way…” he took a sip of his drink, and Olyphant just new there was more coming. “and they do say Taurus is the second best sign in fucking.”

A wink. A fucking wink and the whole table started howling, Walton had on that shark smile of his, the one that made impossible not to see he was a damn lunatic.

“Second best, hm? And who would be the best one?”

“Well, Tim, that would be Scorpio, of course, _and_ that happens to be, who would guess, my sign!” he’s looking around with comically wild eyes, as if this wasn’t the point he was trying to get into since the beginning of the this whole shit talk.

“Well, fuck you, Walt!” was his only possible answer, and hell, isn’t the man infuriating for making him smile even when he’s being a jerk?

“Oh, Tim, you could any day, just know I’d be way better than you at it!”

He’s just about to doubt it out loud, but that would be the perfect queue for Walton to talk about how competitive a Taurus always is. Before he can assure he’s a way better fuck than Goggins any day without sounding like a stubborn child, Jacob is yelling they “should just have a fuck off!”. Next thing Tim knows, his whole table is singing “FUCK OFF!” because they think they’re the most cleaver people in the world, and they end up being kicked out of the bar, pseudo-celebrities or not.

***

As they were walking towards whatever next bar Walt’s birthday would take them, Tim felt the pull he always felt around Goggins, crazy-ass Goggins with his hippie beliefs and his stoned actor mannerisms. He didn’t remember making the moves, but he was suddenly walking beside Walt, trying not to be aware that the night air was making his Boyd hair even wilder, that he had a soft smile in his features. Tim tried his hardest not to look at him, keep staring straight ahead, but it was just a matter of time before his eyes betrayed him and he was looking over at the owner of the shoulder brushing beside him.

“You know, Tim,” Walt said as if he was just waiting for it to continue the conversation. “Scorpio and Taurus are opposite signs.”

“You’re still talking about this shit? You can’t really believe in any of that.”

“If I believe or not, it’s irrelevant. Yo no creo en brujas, pero que las hay, las hay.” Fucking pedant asshole. “As I was saying, we have opposite signs. You know what that means?”

“That for the sake of the universe we should end this conversation before we cause a hole in the fabric of time?”

“No, not exactly. It means that, from time to time, we will surely feel the need to be at each other’s throats.”

“Oh, yes, I can totally see that. Wow, this zodiac thing must be true.”

“And it’s just natural that we don’t always be in perfect harmony. But it also explains why is that, in the moments we _click_ ” at this point Walt leans closer, a wicked smile in his lips. “we do fucking click, man. It’s all in our stars.”

Timothy stared at him with disbelief in his face, not because he didn’t agree with what was being said, but because he knew exactly what Walton was talking about, and that shouldn’t be so easy, so he played dumb.

“Are you talking about Raylan and Boyd or are you flirting again, you damn slut?”

“I’m saying that if we paid a little bit more of attention to where the universe directs us, it wouldn’t surprise us that we get each other so well, that we work so well together. But if you want me to flirt, well, you have yet to give me a birthday gift, pretty face.”

“What about the 80 bucks I just spent in fancy drinks over your ass?”

Walton smiles and they lock eyes: the night is so clear and so fresh; their coworkers are laughing half drunk at what seems to be miles and miles away; the streets are empty and the bars are full; it’s the tenth of November and Walton Goggins is an even older asshole; there’s the chance the stars above them don’t know fuck about what is going to happen in their lives but they both know where this night is going to end.

“That was just foreplay, Tim. You wouldn’t miss out the best sex in the zodiac, now would you?”

**Author's Note:**

> You wanna reach me? I'm at ohthati.tumblr.com  
> Do you ship Boyd x Raylan? Walton x Timothy? check us out at wedugcoal.tumblr.com
> 
> Thank you for reading it!
> 
> P.S.: I'm a Taurus!


End file.
